


Days of Waiting

by Saraste



Series: 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge [16]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Advent Ficlet Challenge 2019, Angst, Braids, Erebor Reclaimed, M/M, Nori being Nori, Winter Solstice, nwalin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Dwalin waits for Nori to home for winter, worry growing in his heart by each day that passes without sight of him.
Relationships: Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien)
Series: 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558918
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26
Collections: 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge





	Days of Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 16. Baby please come home of the 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge.

Sometimes, Nori races the winter home, which is a mystery, as Dwalin is quite certain that he doesn’t, in fact, enjoy the cold, especially being in the wilds during the chill of autumn and the cold of early winter.

But Nori always comes home, to his husband, to his siblings, to his siblings and the kingdom that benefits from his sojourns. Dwalin doesn’t begrudge him, he understands the importance of Nori’s work, but he still wishes it would not take him away so much and for such long periods of time. Sometimes, when he’s having tea with Balin and Dori, Dori will say: ‘He always had a restless spirit, I’d start worrying when he doesn’t come home to those he loves.’

And now… now Dwalin worries.

It is three weeks to Solstice and Nori has never come home this late, has never been away without sending Dwalin a message, or confirming it beforehand that he’ll winter elsewhere, although that has only happened once after the reclaiming of Erebor. But now… there is no word. Nori should have been back by now. And that is why Dwalin stands above the gates each day, staring at the road, now icy and snow-dotted, winding from Vale to Erebor, and the wilderness beyond, slumbering under a heavy coat of snow.

But Nori does not come and he does not come and Dwalin grows more and more concerned. Even Dori is worried, though he does not say, Balin worries for him and his brother, and Dwalin knows full well that Ori frets, their golden prince bearing the weight of that.

The snow piles and the days grow shorter and Dwalin’s heart heavier with dread. He cannot hide his worrying any longer, not with the way he keeps nervously fingering the last braid Nori gave him, a promise and a commitment, more than Dwalin had dared hope. He had to believe that as long as the braid does not unravel, Nori is still alive, even when that’s an old belief, a romantic notion, a fancy.

But Nori _has_ to come back.

The mountain prepares for Solstice, for festivities, for rejoicing. Dwalin can find no merriment in his heart even in the expectation, not as long as Nori is away, because as long as he is, it feels as if half his heart is away. Like he cannot breathe. Even if he can still see Nori in his dreams, hold him in his embrace, kiss him and assure himself of the fact he’s there… which makes the waking all the harsher to bear.

In the end, he stands on the battlements for a whole day, staring out in the blue-shadowed whiteness, the overcast grey sky hanging heavy with more snow that’ll become a white-out by evening reflecting his mood.

In the end…

Nori comes home, just on the day of Solstice, thinner than ever and his long nose red from the cold, feeling too much like a sack of bones when Dwalin catches him in his arms, kisses the breath out of him. Nori’s arms are covetous and his kiss hungry if exhausted and he lets himself slump against Dwalin, having pushed himself too hard. There’s snow caked on his boots, ice on his cloak, his pack not holding enough supplies.

‘Come on, I’ll put you to bed,’ Dwalin says, leading him away from the main hall as the gate swings closed behind them, shutting winter out and warmth in.

Nori’s cold hand wanders and Dwalin shivers more from cold than any heated emotion. He can read his love easily enough, Nori’s will may be into it, but his body isn’t. ‘Will you come and keep me warm?’

Dwalin chuckles tiredly. Nori’s voice is teasing, but there is an undercurrent of weariness, of want to simply have another warm body near, to cuddle with his _husband_.

‘What would people say if we didn’t go to the feast and went to bed instead?’

Nori presses him against a convenient wall and kisses him, lazy and sloppy, almost drunk with tiredness, his energy waning now that he’s with the one person he trusts the most. ‘That you’re welcoming your braided husband home properly, as you should.’

Dwalin’s body twitches with interest, but he can see the dark shadows on Nori’s face in the flickering torch-light, can feel it in the malleability of his slumping body. He kisses Nori and hefts him up into his arms, which isn’t met with protest, a clear sign of how worn his too wiry love is. Nori obligingly clings to him, legs around his waist.

‘I’ll warm you up, don’t you worry,’ Dwalin promises. ‘And Dori will be by with more than you can even want to eat soon enough as word of your coming spreads.’

There’s a slightly unhinged giggle that’s half-buried into his furs, which had kept him warm during his vigil, but are now dripping onto the corridor floor. ‘He’ll better watch or he’ll get an eyeful…’

‘Shush, they’ve all been worried. _I_ have been worried.’

‘I know…’

They lapse to silence. Nori’s asleep by the time Dwalin gets to their apartments. It’s no hardship to spend Solstice in bed with his husband, curled around him, warming him up, not a hardship at all.


End file.
